


Have you seen my chimichanga?

by MagnoliatheShipper



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Spideypool - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-24 00:59:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14344653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagnoliatheShipper/pseuds/MagnoliatheShipper
Summary: Spideypool soulmate au.Peter doesn't expect to have a soulmark, Wade thinks his is a cruel joke.Neither of them expected what they got.





	Have you seen my chimichanga?

The mark shows up on your eighteenth birthday; the first words your soulmate says to you. Most people have them, though there are the odd few who don't. You get it when you turn eighteen, but that doesn't mean you'll meet your 'destined one' right after. It  _could_  be in just a few days, or it could be  _months. Years._  And that's what scared Peter.

He was one day away from turning eighteen, and he was scared. He didn't want to wake up the next morning and find he had a soulmate, only to have to wait for years to find them. He wasn't even sure he'd  _have_  a soulmate. He could turn out to be one of those people without one. Peter didn't think he'd mind that. Not really. He had his Aunt May, right? She was all he really needed.

"What if I don't have a soulmate? Gwen doesn't, what if I'm just another person without a  _magical, destined lover?_ " Peter's Aunt May looked over at him from where she had been washing dishes. Peter sat slumped over at the kitchen table, his forehead resting on the polished wood surface.

"Now now, Peter. Of course, you have a soulmate! You're much too wonderful and sweet not to." Aunt May smiled over at him. "Heck, I can't think of anyone more deserving than you of a soulmate."

Peter lifted his head from the table and smiled at his aunt. "Thanks, Aunt May, you're the greatest."

A critical look suddenly passed over his features. "Soー" Aunt May sighed, and Peter fought a smile. "So," he continued, "What if I wake up tomorrow morning, and find out I  _do_ have a soulmate. What then?" Aunt May laughed. "Then Peter, you wait. They'll come to you eventually, or you to them."

Peter made a sound then that could only be described as a whine. "Aunt May, I don't want to have to wait for years and years! What if, I get  _so_  tired of waiting, that I finally go off to live as a hermit, and I never  _ever_  meet them!"

Aunt May smiled fondly."Peter, you couldn't handle life as a hermit. You would find yourself craving the company of other people sooner or later."

Peter supposed he had to begrudgingly agree with his Aunt. He definitely wouldn't be able to live his life out as a hermit. It was a stupid idea anyway, he already knew he would never just give up so easily. And life as a  _hermit?_  Peter seriously questioned his own mind sometimes.

He thought for a while longer, before coming to the decision that he that he didn't really care anyway. Soulmate or no soulmate, he would live his life out the same as always. He guessed he'd just find out when he woke up. If he didn't have a mark, he wouldn't have to worry about this stuff anymore. And if he did, he supposed he'd just have to start looking.

"I think I'm just gonna go to bed early, okay? I'll see you in the morning." Peter got up from the table and started walking towards the stairs. May glanced over. "Good night, Peter. You'll be eighteen in the morning!" She smiled excitedly.

 

* * *

 

Wade Wilson has been waiting for his soulmate for years. He hadn't honestly expected to have one, he remembers, back when he was turning eighteen. To be honest, he still isn't so sure now.

Even with the words permanently printed on his wrist, he can't bring himself to believe what they make out to be true. He looks down at the arms hanging by his side and brings it up to read the words there. "I'm sorry" is printed like some fancy tattoo, little loops on the 's' and 'y', in his soulmate's handwriting. He's sometimes wondered, considering how long it's been, if the words aren't really the first his soulmate will tell himーbecause, how weird is 'I'm sorry' as the first thing a person says to you?ーbut are really the universe's way of apologizing for him not having one. Wade sighed.

He made his way into the bathroom, and looked in the mirror, cracking a miserable grin. "Nope! Haven't gotten magically less ugly since yesterday." Wade tried to laugh at his joke, but it ended up as something more like a grimace.

"It's been thirteen years, now, hasn't it?" He said (totally  _not_  changing the subject), as he reached up toward his face. Thirteen years since those words showed up on his wrist, thirteen years too since he got these scars. He doesn't like to think about it, brings up  _bad_  feelings...He snorted.  _'Well, the readers need to know, so might as well have a flashback!'_

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_Wade Wilson was young. He was good; though God only knows how he managed, after all, he'd been through. -_  "Let's just say I had a super Bad, super Painful childhood, okay?"-  _He had been nineteen(_ _or twenty-something, the author isn't entirely sure what to do with the ages here_ _) when he was diagnosed with terminal Cancer_ \- The Big 'C'-  _and he lost the will to live._

_Wade had gone from trying to do good, to not caring anymore. His actions became questionable and began having more negative effects on others(and himself). Just as he thought he was too far gone down the "wrong path", someone intervened._

_He was a military man, a general or something. He was apparently in charge of overseeing some secret government operation. Wade hadn't really cared at the time. He should have. It wasn't until he found himself strapped down to a cold metal table that he realized just what it was he agreed to._

_He had been told it was a new technology, still being tested. He had been told that it would cure his cancer. And not only that, but it would succeed in making him stronger too. Physically, mentally, it would improve his immune system, any negative side-effects seemed like nothing compared to what they promised him._

_Needless to say, they lied._

_Wade had been poked, prodded, shocked, injected, pulled apart and put back together-not necessarily in the right order-he had been cut open,_ dissected _, and had his insides rearranged. He underwent near-constant torture, all for the promise of a better life coming out of it._

_That better life never came. Wade suffered through that hell for_ weeks _. No one expected him to live. So naturally, it surprised them, the so-called_ scientists _, the military men, the other subjects, when he finally managed to pull himself off of that table and burn the whole place to the ground._

_The tests did not cure his cancer. Instead, they warped his body's natural healing process, all the way down to the individual regeneration of cells. The cancer cells in his body were in a constant state of being destroyed and then knit back together. His cancer was no longer going to kill him-_ nothing _was- but it wasn't going away either.The constant destroying and reforming of the cancer cells resulted in his body being riddled with cancer scars, his hair having since fallen out. He was left deformed, ugly, and in pain._

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"Yup! I'm never remembering that again!" Wade made another awkward grimace, and walked back to his room, resigned to his fate of probably having to wait another thirteen years.

* * *

 

Peter opened his eyes and blinked slowly. Stretching his arms out over his head, he yawned. A glance at his alarm clock told him it was 7:18, and he sat up, staring at the numbers until they became nothing more than red, blurry, shapes.

_Happy birthday, Peter._  He thought to himself.  _You're_ finally _an adult._  He snorted. Like he cared about technically being an adult or not. He froze suddenly, as that line of thought caught up with him.  _I'm eighteen. That means I might have a soul mark... or not._  He jumped up, frantic, and immediately started checking his arms. Upon finding nothing there, he moved to inspect his legs, hopping up and down on one foot as he tried to keep his balance.

Peter looked everywhere, his feet, his thighs, his hips, he even lifted up his shirt to check his torso. Moving to the bathroom, he lifted up his head, turning this way and that to check his neck, before turning around. Lifting up his shirt again, he craned his neck to either side, trying to see if there was anything on his back.

Nothing. Peter slumped down to the floor and spread out. He laid there for awhile, processing the fact that he didn't have a soulmate.  _That's alright, I mean, that's what I was_ hoping _for, right?_

He sighed, before finally standing up, deciding to take a shower before venturing downstairs to face Aunt May.

* * *

 

Peter stood in the kitchen. He had just gotten out of the shower and was still wrapped in his towel.

"Aunt May, is this really so important that I couldn't have gotten dressed first? I mean, I already told you that I don't have a soulmate. Believe me, I checked  _everywhere._ " May was moving about the kitchen, getting things ready for breakfast. She was making pancakes, one of Peter's favorites.

She laughed at Peter's remark. "Well of course it is! I have to double check. We both know how hasty you are, Peter. I'm sure the only reason you didn't find anything is because you just didn't look thoroughly enough." She kept puttering around the kitchen, before seeming to decide that the batter could wait, and turned back to face Peter.

"Okie-Dokie, now let's get a look at you." She smiled that sweet smile of hers and moved to grip Peter's shoulders. She hummed and started to maneuver him around, peering and poking at him as she went. Peter giggled as she hit a particularly sensitive spot on his side, and she smiled in response.

"Alright, that seems to be it for the front, now let's turn you around.' She spun him around and began the same treatment on his back. She spent a good half hour inspecting him, lifting up his legs to poke at the soles of his feet- resulting in more giggles - and lifting his arms above his head.

Finally, she stepped away, seemingly affronted by his lack of a soul mark. "Well, I just don't know." She narrowed her eyes at Peter. "I was so absolutely sure you'd have a soulmate. I just can't believe you-" Peter cut her off, turning to walk away, leaving the kitchen.

"It's okay, Aunt May. I don't mind, really. I just want to put some clothes on, and have breakfast with you." He started walking towards the stairs, not noticing his towel slip down.

He had just set his foot down on the first stair when Aunt May called, "Peter! Wait! What's that right there? I thought you said you checked everywhere." Peter turned around. "I did. What are you talking about? This isn't funny." He frowned, and turned back around, continuing to climb up the stairs.

Aunt May scoffed. "Peter, this isn't a joke. You know me better than that. Now get your butt back here!" Peter sighed. He refused to acknowledge any spark of hope he felt at his Aunt's words. He trudged back down the stairs and faced his Aunt. Wordlessly, she turned him around and yanked his towel down.

"-What!? Aunt May what hell?" Peter tried to flip around and save his towel, but May's grip on him tightened, her hands like vices on his arms. He wasn't going anywhere.

It was with his towel hanging half off of him, and with a face as bright as a tomato that Peter first learned that he did  _-in fact-_  have a soulmate. Aunt May was overjoyed, Peter was embarrassed and both were incredibly confused as to the exact meaning of the words found.

_'Have you seen my chimichanga?'_  Was printed out in a scratchy font ( _His soulmate's handwriting, according to Aunt May)_ right above the curve of his ass, the one place Peter didn't think to look. ("Who's soul mark is on their butt?"- Peter, somewhat indignantly to Aunt May- who laughed, " _Yours_ , sweetheart.")

* * *

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When Wade Wilson had resigned himself to wait another thirteen years for his soulmate two years ago, it was with the hope that he wouldn't actually have to wait that long again.  _'That was_ not _an invitation to make my life_ worse _,_ The Universe™ _. That was me subtly asking you to bring me my soulmate_ _SOONER!!!'_

He sighed. Obviously, The Universe™ didn't get his psychic messages.  _Hmm... Must get a lot of calls._

He was knocked out of his thoughts by a something hitting him full force, tearing something out of his hands.

It took a moment for Wade to realize what had happened.

"Oh  _hell_ no!" He spun around, having noticed what the fucker had taken, and sprinted off after him. 

The guy was fast, sprinting through the crowded street like a cheetah.  _Agile too, dodging all these random people._  

Just as that thought passed his mind, Wade collided right into someone. A cute, nerdy looking someone too. The poor kid dropped his armful of papers and folders and cried out when he did.  _Ha!_ Dropped. _You know you knocked that stuff out of his arms, right?_  Wade ignored his inner voice and looked bent down to help the scrambling kid. 

As he looked up, he asked (more like shouted), "Have you seen my chimichanga?" at the same time the boy pushed his hair out of his face with an, "I'm sorry!" (The apology is later assumed by Wade to be for making him kelp the boy with his stuff, but for now, he's got too much on his mind to think about trivial things like that.)

 The boy looks confused for a minute, and Wade launches into a very fast and very detailed rendition of how 'some guy' ran off with his chimichanga--meant for the homeless cats, as Wade himself doesn't like chimichangas-- and asked if he'd seen the guy run through. 

The kid blinked, "Umm, maybe? There was a guy who shoved past an old lady, and he was carrying something." Wade grinned. "Thanks, kid! I owe ya one!" He ran off in the general direction 'the guy' had gone. 

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Peter wasn't quite sure what to do with himself after that weird guy ran off.  _After a thief...who stole a chimichanga?_  Peter ran back through the event in his mind. The guy ran into him, knocked his stuff on the ground, Peter apologized as he helped him collect it, and the guy asked about his chimichanga... 

Peter's eyes widened. "He didn't ask  _about_  his chimichanga, he asked if I'd  _seen_ it!"  _That guy's my_ soulmate _!_  Peter spun on his heel and dropped his stuff--again--to sprint after the guy, shouting, "Wait! Chimichanga guy! I need to talk to you!"

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Wade, on the other hand, didn't realize what amazing thing had occurred until he had found and cornered the thief. He had been in the middle of describing all the trouble the thief had caused him and that "cute nerd kid" when his story suddenly came to a halt. The thief was staring up at him, confused and scared by his scars, and even more afraid of Wade's sudden quiet. 

Wade had made a magnificent, absolutely beautiful discovery: the cute kid he ran into wasn't disgusted by his scars! Just as he was starting to do a happy little dance, his subconscious butted in -  _Hey, dumb-ass!_   _That_ kid _is your soulmate! He_ said _"I'm sorry", which if you haven't noticed, is ON YOUR ARM!_

Wade jerked out of his trance, in shock. The man on the ground in front of him started and stopped dead in his place, scared of being caught trying to sneak away from the zoned out man. Wade, however, paid him no mind, as at that very moment, Peter burst into the alleyway. He was breathless, having run all around trying to find Wade. He pulled up in front of him and dropped his hands to his knees, trying to regain he breath

Wade was in shock, looking down at the boy in front of him, barely even hearing him when he spoke. "Hey... I found you." The boy met his gaze, then, and smiled a breathless smile. "I, you--I mean, we..." He broke off and stood up straight, smiling again. "My-my name's Peter. And..you're my soulmate."

Wade's smile then was brighter than the sun. The thief completely went from his mind, Wade surged forward, laughing, and scooped Peter up into the air. "Peter! Peter, what a wonderful name!" Peter squawked, but couldn't help but smile too. Wade grinned even wider, "Oh, Peter! Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Pie! You have  _no_  idea how long I've waited for you." 

Calming down now, Wade carefully set Peter on the ground, and a scarred hand came up to his neck in embarrassment. "Ah...sorry. I'm uh, I'm Wade." He smiled sheepishly, and Peter smiled in response. "It's okay, I'm sorry you had to wait so long, Wade. Would you tell me about it?" The brunette took a mangled hand into his own, smiling somewhat sadly down at it. "Tell me about these?" Wade was speechless, and even though he wasn't fond of telling anyone about his scars, he nodded anyway. 

The two left the alley that way; hand in hand and smiling, already starting a conversation about their words, and how cute Wade thought Pete's butt was.

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The chimichanga thief lived to steal another day, grateful to the boy who interrupted his captor.

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Aunt May was ecstatic, and Wade was happy and relieved to have found a place so accepting of his flaws.

 

The End


End file.
